congratulations, champion
by rubies and diamonds
Summary: he knows he won't be coming back alive.


**a/n:** so i just finished re-reading the hunger games in preparation for catching fire but im still in the percy jackson mindset you feel so here have this thing i crapped out at some ungodly hour last night/this morning

**disclaimer:** suzanne collins owns the premise rick riordan owns the characters :)

* * *

pt I

His fists are clenched and he was so close; so, so close to freedom – too old to be picked for the games, only a week away from a peaceful life spent with his mother, working as a fishmonger or a net weaver as the rest of his district did.

He steels himself as he makes his way up the podium. No one volunteers for his place, and he knows that they all think they're doing him a good service.

Being reaped is an honour here, and Percy's time is nearly over. It just wouldn't be fair to steal his glory.

He meets the eye of his mother and sees them glisten with tears.

He wants to cry too.

He knows he won't be coming back alive.

* * *

The girl who's competing alongside him is a volunteer, with flaccid brown hair that hung to her shoulders and a generally uninteresting face.

He wonders if she'll be the one to kill him.

Their mentor is a fairly old man, black hair thats slightly graying, thick eyebrows and tanned skin, clad in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki cutoffs, as though he had just been lounging on the shores of their home in district four instead of preparing two children for slaughter.

Percy spends the first night on the train rewatching old games, terror and adrenaline running wildly through his veins making him unable to rest.

* * *

The Capitol is beautiful, even to someone like Percy had no real appreciation for buildings or fashion.

The stylists are close to horrifying in their makeup and insane hairstyles, the team that was set to attend to him painted in shades of green and purple and yellow, together looking like some exotic fish Percy had seen whilst on a fishing trip with his friends.

They talk as they work, speaking of nothing relevant to him or his situation. He's slightly disgusted that they think nothing of how the person they are prepping is about to turn into a ruthless killer in barely a week's time.

* * *

The opening ceremony is intense.

Percy stands as far away as he can on the horse drawn carriage from the girl who he came with, not wanting to build attachments to anyone. He's never been good at letting go once attached.

While they are waiting to go out and present themselves to the public, the fellow careers small talk with each other, districts one and two looking far more jovial than the rest.

He thinks that they are nice enough, and wonders if they would have been friends in a different life.

He looks around and eyes up the rest of the competition, and is horrified with himself for how predatory he must seem.

There's a boy, barely twelve, standing next to a terrified looking girl in her early-teens near the district 6 chariot, an older girl with a thick fringe, holding herself high but the terror in her eyes evident near the district 11 one.

A blonde boy holds himself strong by the district 5 chariot and he has to congratulate him on his composure.

His eyes fall on a blonde girl with a calculating stare and he somehow knows she's going to be the one to end up winning this thing.

* * *

The first day of training is equally as intense. Everyone is hell bent on proving their worth, flashing their best moves, trying to intimidate the others.

The blonde he saw from last night moves like the wind, graceful and lithe, as quick as anything.

He thinks trying to catch her would be like trying to grasp at smoke.

She uses a ten-inch dagger and even though he doesn't know her it seems slightly fitting.

Percy's hopeless at the technical side of the games – what's poisonous, what's not, how to start a fire and how to build traps, but seeing as how everyone is presenting themselves as alpha Percy decides it would probably be best for him to do so aswell.

He gets his hand around a fairly well balanced sword and takes down several dummies in record time.

He hadn't known people had stopped what they were doing to watch what he was about to attempt as soon as he had picked up the weapon; but he does when he hears a low whistle resound the training arena, emitted from the blonde boy who he saw the night before.

He can see the girl too, staring at him, seizing him up.

She has grey eyes.

* * *

He tosses and turns the whole night, waking up every other hour.

He wonders how many other kids are sleeping.

(With the amount of coffee his female counterpart drinks at breakfast the next morning, he'd say as well as he is.)

* * *

He spends the day trying to improve on his deductioning skills and fire-building skills.

He nearly cries in frustration when he can't get the damn thing to light, until a slender and tanned hand halts his movements, then guides his hands into making the small pyre in the correct fashion, it lighting perfectly after.

There's a small smile on the person's lips, a twinkle in their grey eyes.

She leaves as quickly as she came, and is already pummeling a dummy into the ground by the time he gathers his wits.

* * *

On their final day Percy is still as unconfident as he was three day's prior. He can make a fire now, as well as a decent spring trap, scored more than half on the matchup quiz which is pretty amazing for him, and has gotten mildly better at spear throwing – archery is something he'll never be good at – but he's still terrified he won't last five minutes. He'll probably be the idiot that steps off of the platform early and gets blown to bits.

How he manages to land a nine in his private session with the gamemakers, he'll never know.

(He also notes that the blonde haired and grey-eyed girl scored a nine.)

* * *

The tribute interviews are by far the scariest thing Percy's ever done in his entire life.

He's generally a rather easygoing guy, always joking and laughing with his friends, but he tenses up on stage and has no idea what to say.

Caesar seems to sense his distress and asks him easy questions, and Percy eases up enough to make the audience laugh – at him or with him he doesn't know – so he hopes that they won't have a too-negative view of him and will be generous enough to send him at least a few sponsors.

In the back room there's a TV and he waits behind to watch the girl's interview. He finds that her name is Annabeth, and she's smart and witty and sarcastic and has the audience from the get-go.

The only thing he's certain of at the moment is the feeling in his gut that tells him that she'll be the one to win it.

* * *

pt II

The morning of his (presumable) death comes all to quickly.

His mentor near drags him from the blue silken sheets in which he had spent the past few nights sleeping in, and he doesn't want to go, he wants to return home to his mother who he's sure will be trying to stay strong for him and he wants to hug her and smell the faint scent of baking and clean river water she always had.

He and the other district 4 girl who he never learnt the name of travel to the aircraft that will be taking them to their place of death, maintaining a stony silence all the way.

Their mentor gives them words of good luck and encouragement that are lost on Percy.

He barely registers the jab of the tracker being implanted into the skin of his forearm.

Annabeth sits opposite him a few seats down and he tries not to stare at her but fails miserably.

She stares back and he thinks he sees a certain sadness in her grey eyes.

* * *

His stylist, a voluptuous woman with pink, cotton candy like hair and skin dyed pastel blue, fusses over him as he enters the small room in which he is prepped for the games.

She hands him two items of clothing, both lightweight and thin.

The top is loose and white and has long sleeves, the pants long and baggy and tan.

She helps him into a khaki vest with various pockets and she tells him he'll need it.

He doesn't want to think of what's in store for him.

* * *

As the metal platform makes its way up the glass tube he sees his mother's tear streaked face as she watches her baby boy die on screen before her.

He doesn't want to die.

* * *

The arena is a wide expanse of desert.

There are cracks a foot wide in the ground, dust clouds billowing up, tumbleweeds rolling.

The sunlight is harsh.

Six-foot tall weeds with foot long spikes grow from the cracks in the ground and Percy guesses that they're poisonous. He understands why his stylist told him long sleeves were necessary. He reckons only feeble scratch from a spike like that would have you dead within the hour.

There are a few small mountains around them, the closest about a few hundred miles away.

The countdown booms overhead, and he doesn't let his eyes stray from the Cornucopia.

He's a career; he has a good shot of not being slain upon sight when reaching the golden metal horn.

He's also pretty fast, and has good reaction time, so he wonders if he'd reach the thing first. (He doubts it).

The monotonous beep that signals the start of the games sounds and Percy flies off of the pedestal he was mounted upon, sprinting towards the Cornucopia.

He's not first, but he manages to grab hold of a sword and doesn't think as he slashes at the other tributes running toward him.

The rest of the careers are fighting alongside him, and even though there is literally nowhere to hide, the tributes who know they didn't stand a chance scattered into the vast desert in hope of a better chance at surviving.

Him and the rest of districts one, two, three and four set up camp around the Cornucopia and they're eager to go out and search for easy pickings.

Not wanting to look weak, he agrees to go along after the sun sets.

(He knows Annabeth is smart enough to not make herself an easy target, and also knows that she didn't die in the bloodbath – she was there and gone long before Percy even got his hand around the sword he now carries.)

* * *

All in all, eight kids died in the bloodbath.

Another four were killed by him and the pack of careers that were no batter than a bloodthirsty pack of wild dogs.

Percy tries not to think about how many of those deaths were his doing.

(He sighs in relief when he doesn't see Annabeth's face flash up in the sky.)

* * *

Another two kids die while his team sleep, and he guesses it was from natural causes. He wonders if the plants are as poisonous as he first thought.

He eats bread for breakfast and finds it hard to hold down. He wants to go _home_.

His allies suggest another hunt, no longer hindered by darkness, and he smiles in a way he hopes they think is enthusiastic.

He tries not to wince as the girl from district 2 kills the youngest child in the arena with her bare hands.

* * *

He doesn't know how long he's been in the arena. Time doesn't flow the same way here.

Deciding not enough was happening, the gamemakers set a pair of fifty foot long, twenty foot wide rattlesnakes on them, spewing acid as well as fire; driving the careers from the cornucopia.

He grabs a loaf of bread and another sword before he bolts away, leaving the rest of the foolish careers who think they can fight them, drunk off of their power they felt they had earned after their recent kills.

He ran to the mountain he first saw when he entered the arena, and climbs a scraggly tree for safety. He thinks, anyway.

There's no sign of water anywhere, no life to tell where the source of nourishment is coming from.

He has his leather water skin on him, though it's near empty and he knows enough about the technical side of the games to know he'll need water to survive. He curses himself for grabbing the bread when he could have gone for the litre bottle of water.

He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he waits out the remainder of the night up in the tree. He watches the sky and sees that the girl he came with and the boy from district three are dead.

* * *

pt III

The next day he sets out to try and find water.

He wonders if he should dig by the plants, to see if there is some sort of underwater spring, but he knows there is no chance of that happening. the game makers aren't that kind.

He wanders aimlessly, taking off his shirt and throwing the vest over his head in a feeble attempt at camouflage. He thinks his skin is roughly the same colour as the ground.

He nearly cries when he finds a cactus, remembering his time at the training centre to know they store water.

He's about to split it open and drink to his heart's content when he hears a sly voice.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," they say and his heart stops dead in his chest. He knows he's about to die. He closes his eyes and mouths 'sorry mom' before getting up, resting his hand upon his sword and facing the speaker.

It's Annabeth, and she's smiling somewhat wickedly at him. He thinks it's unfair how beautiful he thinks his killer to be.

"But you're not, are you?" he replies, raising an eyebrow.

She smirks at him, nodding slightly, as if she was approving him. She notices his hand on the hilt of his weapon and rolls her eyes.

"Really? Why would I save your life, only to kill you myself?"

"Um…" he says, very intelligently. "Glory? I don't know."

She smiles again and sticks out her hand. "Annabeth Chase. I'm offering a temporary alliance, if you're willing."

"Percy Jackson, and I'm accepting your offer of temporary alliance," he says, mirroring her formal words, "us nines have to stick together."

* * *

Annabeth is far smarter than he first thought her to be, which he thinks must break some kind of law. She has saved his ass so many times these past few days that he is slightly embarrassed.

It has started to get colder at nights, and hotter during the days.

Annabeth curls up to him and falls asleep on his shoulder shivering one night while he takes watch, and he doesn't have the heart to wake her.

He's worried he likes her all too much for how temporary the alliance is going to end up being.

* * *

They're attacked by a lizard/frog hybrid next, and Annabeth devises a way to run around rocks and plants as to avoid the sticky tongue that repeatedly shoots at them.

It's another time he's more than grateful for her company.

She kisses him hard after he slices the thing's tongue in half after its latches onto Annabeth.

His blood turns to liquid fire and he grins and pulls her back after he sees the wide eyed look she gives him, a 'sorry' already spilling from her lips. he tells her not to be through heady kisses that she returns just as vigourously.

* * *

He watches the sky from the small chasm they set up camp in, Annabeth's golden head on his lap, light snores emanating from her throat. He strokes her hair and imagines them somewhere far away from here, somewhere safe.

Three more kids flash up – a boy from nine, the girl from eleven with the thick fringe, and a boy from seven.

He doesn't know how many are left.

He prays to whatever god there may be that it isn't just him and Annabeth.

* * *

It isn't. They run into the girl who he watched kill the boy from district 6 with her bare hands the next morning.

She grins evilly at them, clenches her fists then unclenches them and narrows her eyes.

Percy swings his sword and Annabeth darts around him to her back, and aims to stab.

It's like the girl can predict what's going to happen, because she trips Percy before he can even get close enough to her for his swing to land, and dodges before Annabeth's dagger shoots up.

She turns and grabs Annabeth's wrist, bending it around until a crack resounds through the air, making Percy wince. She cries out in pain and drops her dagger.

Percy scrambles up, sword in hand, and plunges downwards, chopping the girl's arm clean off. Blood spouts out of the wound profusely, coating Percy.

Annabeth whimpers to his left and cradles her mangled hand.

The girl stumbles backwards and falls, and Percy drives his sword down again, straight through her heart. His face remains impassive.

He steals the pack of nuts she had in her pocket and her water skin before returning to Annabeth and walking her back to their camp.

He strokes her face and apologizes before twisting her wrist back into position, thumb running lines across her cheekbone as she bites her lip to keep from screaming.

He breaks off branches and secures them to her forearm with some material he ripped from his shirt in a makeshift brace he hopes lasts.

She kisses him and holds him tight, shivering even with his arms around and rubbing furiously, trying to create friction.

He tells her that he loves her and she tells him that he shouldn't.

He says he knows and she says that she loves him too.

* * *

He tells her to stay and rest while he goes out and collects some form of sustenance.

He finds a bush with nuts similar to the ones he stole from the girl, and takes a few handfuls but doesn't eat any, wanting a second opinion on their edibility before he does so. (He trusts Annabeth more than himself sometimes.)

Nearly all the pockets in his vest are full with different berries and nuts when he's on his way back to the chasm, and out of nowhere a boy he's not sure which district is from obstructs his path, his spear drawn.

The boy is big, tough looking and Percy just wants to get back to Annabeth and make sure she's okay.

He draws his sword and somehow he knows he won't come off best in this fight.

* * *

Annabeth has never been good at listening to other people, so she ignores Percy's commands and after waiting a while, goes after him.

She wishes she hadn't.

She sees the boy she loves, terrified and helpless, being overpowered by a boy much larger and much more brutal than him, half a spear laying close to their feet, the other half at Percy's stomach.

She screams when she sees the boy run it through his abdomen, and sees his eyes fly open, looking directly at her, and sees the boy who killed him turn on her.

She darts up to him and slits his throat before he can even finish turning and registering that there was another competitor.

She shoves his body out of the way and crouches over Percy, cradling his head in her lap, her eyes blurry from tears.

"Pull this thing out of me, please?" he asks her, raising his arm limply to gesture to the broken spear shaft lodged in his stomach.

"No, no if I do that it will open the cut up more – no we'll get you out they'll – the Capitol, they'll save you –"

"Annabeth," he interrupts. "If you don't do it, I will." He raises his shaking hand as if it were a threat, moves it towards the injury before she bats his hand away way does it herself. She cries harder when he yells in pain and his eyes flutter.

"No, no, no Percy, no you're not going to die –"

"You know when I first saw you I knew you'd be the winner?" he tells her, smiling softly.

Her tears spatter his cheeks and her hands stroke his face. "I'm not going to win, if you die I am not staying here alone, you can't leave me here, you can't expect me to do that."

"You wont be here. You'll be home."

Her surroundings now come into focus. The sky is dark, sinister, even though it was bright and sunny when she left the chasm. "What?"

"I didn't know either, I promise. Guy over there told me as we were fighting that it was only one more left till the crown. I figured he meant you."

"I-"

"Congratulations, champion," he tells her, breathing heavily and gasping between his words. His eyes flutter again, closing briefly, like it was hard for him to keep them open.

"No. No. _NO_," she screams, hysteria bubbling up inside of her, weaving its way into her voice. "No you can't die, you can't leave, you can't, you knew, I know you knew, you stupid selfless bastard how dare you die on me, how _dare_ you, no you're not leaving me, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I'm so sorry," he says quietly, taking her hand from his face and holding it. "I swear to you I didn't know, but even if I did, I wouldn't change anything. You deserve to live. I love you, Annabeth Chase."

He squeezes her hand and his head lolls back on her lap, his eyes glassed over and face slack.

His canon goes off and she screams in agony, presses her forehead to his own, her tears soaking his lifeless face. She hates the empty look in his sea-green eyes, the lazy way his jaw hangs open and the way his hand's grip goes slack in hers.

The voice of the gamemakers echoes throughout the barren arena. "And the winner of the sixty-fifth annual Hunger Games is: Annabeth Chase!"

She kisses his forehead through her ragged sobs and closes his eyes, picking up the spearhead from his side and throwing it far, far away.

She can hear the hovercraft coming for her. Her dagger, on the floor next to her, glints with the blood of he boy who killed her first love.

She strokes his face once more, thinking how he looked just like he was sleeping a dreamless and peaceful slumber, and stabs herself through the ribcage, dragging it down and wedging it into her chest for good measure.

She falls atop Percy's chest, and together they look like they could be anywhere, far away from this twisted game and all the pain and suffering it causes.

She dies in his arms and she thinks it isn't the worst way to go.

* * *

**a/n:** moral of todays story kids

do not let ruby write anything ever


End file.
